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The bullet hits him in the same shoulder where he struck me. It seems only fair.
“Shit.” He presses his hand to the wound and shakes his head. “I just started feeling better from when you almost stabbed me in the fucking heart.”
“Shame I missed,” I snarl.
His face is white, blood oozing between his fingers. “Come on, man. My wife and kid are upstairs, and—”
“No, they aren’t. I already checked.”
His eyes go wide. We’re alone, and he knows it. There is no one here to save him.
“Where is Cole Morrison?” I ask.
He takes a shuddering breath. “I guess someone told you his name, then?”
I don’t respond.
“I don’t know, okay? I already told you. No one tells me—”
I shoot his kneecap. His leg sprays blood and bends at a strange angle, and he doesn’t know whether to tend to his shoulder or leg first.
“God damn it!” he screams, pushing off the floor with his good leg until he is pressed against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Where is he?” I ask. “Tell me, and I’ll be merciful.”
“This is mercy?” he asks, eyes wide and wild.
I aim at his other knee, and he holds up his hands. “Look, all I know is that the Irish gained access to a local military base. They got a shit ton of assault rifles, and Cole is supposed to be selling them.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, I think.” He shrugs. “I see the financial reports when it is all over. No one fills me in on the details.” He is pale and shaky from blood loss.
“Where are they storing the weapons?”
He hesitates, and I point the gun at his chest. The answer spills out of him faster than the blood. “Kaufenberg Shipyard.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
I lift the gun to his temple, and Patrick squeezes his eyes closed. I shouldn’t leave a witness. It is Crime 101. Don’t want to get caught? Don’t just tie up your loose ends; kill them. But Patrick looks pathetic. He is shaking and trembling, and when I look over his shoulder, I see a framed photograph of him and his wife and child at an amusement park. There is a Ferris wheel behind them, and his son has his eyes and is smiling at the camera.
I’ve never been so soft before, but I lower the gun and step away.
Patrick opens one eye and then the other.
“If you tell anyone I was here, I’ll come back,” I warn. “I’ll kill you. Them, too,” I add, pointing with my gun at the framed photo.
He gulps and nods, and I turn to leave. The Irish mob will be destroyed soon enough. By tomorrow night, it won’t matter if Patrick tells anyone I was here. There won’t be anyone left to come after me.
* * *
Icheck the tracker when I get back to my car, and see that Eve’s GPS dot has stopped moving. She is at her apartment, and I can’t believe she would go somewhere so obvious. I figured she would skip town and hope that I would be too busy and too lazy to chase after her. But staying within the city limits? It is bold. Almost like she didn’t actually want to run away, at all.
I tell myself to go straight back to the mansion, but I can’t resist driving by her place. I park along the curb outside and look up at her window.
It’s late but the lights are all on. She hasn’t been back there in almost two months, so she is probably cleaning up and dusting, organizing her things. I see flickers of movement past the closed windows, her shadow stretching across the blinds. I want her to open them and look down at me, but of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t know I’m here. Which is fine with me.
I drive away and call Gabriel. The soldiers need to be prepared for an attack on Kaufenberg Shipyard. He doesn’t ask any questions, but assures me it will be done. Loyal to a fault, that one.
